


So they Find a Stripper Pole.

by Bignonbinarygay



Category: DSAF, Dayshift At Freddy's
Genre: Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Beta Read, fuck it dave knows his name is jack, i cant write old sport over and over, sorry if theres mistakes, takes place around dsaf 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23049682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bignonbinarygay/pseuds/Bignonbinarygay
Summary: Boys get bored, dig around n find a fuckin stripper pole, don't look at me
Relationships: Jack Kennedy/Dave Miller (Dayshift at Freddy's)
Comments: 48
Kudos: 231





	1. Someone Pinch Me, I must be Dreaming

They had some downtime, he and Jack. They were searching through the Safe Room, bored; waiting for Phone Guy to leave the dining room so they could initiate phase one of their plan. There were scraps of abandoned old suits, seeming Disney or Nickelodeon rip offs, one strange sexualized Foxy in lingerie animatronic, ovens that were long rotting, shit people seemed too lazy to actually walk the 20 feet to the dump. Dave and Jack were sharing a cigarette, and Dave was trying hard not to think of Jack’s lips indirectly touching his own every time he took a drag.

“God, I can’t even believe how much shit they have back here.” Jack swept some suit-like debris out of the way. Dave hummed and kicked over a couple greasy boxes.

“Someone should really toss this garbage out,” Dave agreed, not seeming to realize the irony in the statement as he roughly tore open the boxes, making more of a mess than there was before.

Dave was wearing a misguided, broken down Hulk animatronic’s big spring lock glove, when he heard Jack suddenly exclaim across the room. He quickly swiveled his head, and gaped when his old sport yanked a rusty, golden stripper pole from amongst the refuse. He quickly dropped everything and helped Jack prop the damned thing up, careful not to touch it directly because God knew what disease lurked on the surface area of the fuckin’ thing. They both stood back and admired it, Dave even letting out a low whistle.

“The fuck you think this was for?” Dave asked dryly, testing its durability with a harsh shove. It seemed stable, barely tipping over at the motion. “Capture the flag?”

Jack gave him a flat look before taking a hesitant step onto the base of it. It was sturdy, giving a quiet groan at the new weight being applied. He grabbed the pole for support.

“You sure about touching that fuckin’ thing, old sport?” Dave grimaced. “Think of the Foxy pussy juices that have surely clamped down on that tetanus-scabbed pole.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s been years since its been used surely.” Jack circled the pole, slowly, as if testing the strength of the stage. ”I don’t think germs even live that long, Aubergine.” Dave glanced away, some racy images coming to mind he wished he weren’t entertaining. He took a slow puff from the cigarette, trying to busy himself from making this weird. This wasn’t weird. They just found a stripper pole, and the man he’s been having recurring wet dreams about was eyeing it like a prize fucking hog. Fuck, he really shouldn’t be staring, but god damn him, Jack was stroking the pole with a reverence he wasn’t known for.

Dave cleared his throat. “You alright there, old sport? You look like you’ve won a fuckin’ meal ticket. The only thing you’re probably gunna win is the most unknown, advanced virus in recent discovery.” he full on gulped when Jack gripped the top and did a test swing.

“Oh what’s the harm, babe?” old sport gave him a playful wink, seductively folding a leg around it. Dave, ever so slick, pinched his side, absolutely certain this was yet another wet dream. “This is actually kinda fun. Huh. Didn’t think I had it in me. Sluttiness.” He did a very festive twirl. Dave’s heart nearly gave out when they made eye contact.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath before flicking some ash. He hadn’t even noticed it was close to burning to the nub. He tossed the damned thing away before awkwardly trying to stare not-too intensely at the show being put on. “Do you even know what you’re doing, old sport? Have you done this before?” he hoped his tone didn’t indicate how incredibly badly he wanted to know the answer to that question. Dave desperately hoped he sounded ~casual~. He really prayed that the intense love he felt didn’t bleed into his voice right fuckin’ now. That it wasn’t obvious that yeah, okay, he’s thought about this okay? Fantasized about-

“Nah,” Jack exhaled before attempting to put all his weight on the pole, both legs wrapped around it a little stiffly. “But I figure hey, got some time to kill right?” he finally looked up, seeming to have a small moment of clarity before grinning wickedly. 

“Oh Dave,” he said innocently. “Your cigarette ran out. Here, I have another.” He stopped his incubus ways for a moment to take out his box of cancer sticks. He stepped off the stage and into Dave’s personal space, his eye lashes flicking down as he casually, slowly, put the butt end of a cigarette into Dave’s mouth. Dave, to his credit, did not drop his jaw and gape stupidly like his first instinct dictated. If he did that, the cancer stick would fall out! And that’d surely be a waste! He especially didn’t react when Jack lit it for him, his face so close he might burn himself. They made eye contact again. Dave swallowed thickly, his heart pounding a frantic beat in his ears. 

“Dave,” Jack whispered suddenly, his eyes roaming Dave’s face like he had never seen him before. Like he was truly drinking in the view. Dave gulped again. He sucked a bit of smoke into his lungs, before removing the cigarette to slowly exhale. “Dave, you’re pink.” an orange hand cupped his face tenderly, before moving to take the cigarette from his waiting hand.

Dave laughed shakily. “You’re scarin’ me, old sport. I ain’t ever seen that look in your eyes before.” he coughed weakly. “What’s that you’re doin’? Wit ya face?” He’s hugging himself now, hand still open from where he had been holding the cigarette. He was as stiff as Scottie, unwilling to even dare to move. He just didn’t trust himself not to. To. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Dave,” to hear his friend, his old sport’s voice so low in this room, it sent a cruel shiver down the purple guy’s spine. It suddenly hit him that they really were alone together. In this room, this noise-cancelled room full of sickly trash and old blood. “I don’t know what you mean.” his hand was on his shoulder now, and he tried hard not to audibly yelp. “This is how I’ve always looked at you.”

William didn’t know when it happened, but he was pressed against the wall now. His heart raced like he was cornered prey and God damn it all if this wasn’t the most scared he’d ever been. Was he hallucinating? Was he in heaven? What was this? Fuck, he was shaking. He cursed himself. So fuckin’ weak. He knew his shivering body revealed how lonely, how /inexperienced/, how touched starved he was- how bad he fucking wanted this- 

“I’mnotgay,” he blurted out, wild eyed, looking everywhere but Jack. “I swear, I wasn’t trying to-”

Suddenly it was cold. Jack was no longer touching him, no longer giving him that fucking look. He looked scared too.

“Shit Dave- Fuck, I’m sorry.” He took another step back. “I, uh. Wildly misinterpreted things. Fuck. I’ll go. Uh. Get started on what we were talking about. I’m sorry, again.” hurried steps, then the door shut. Oh. He sank to the floor. He was alone again. He took a deep breath before releasing it as a sob. What in the everloving fuck was wrong with him? His crush of months now just- He was? Why was he crying? He could almost hear Henry’s voice berating him now. Pathetic little man. Crying on the floor of shitty, shitty Fazbender’s Entertainment. So fucking weak. He balled his hands to fists. Damn it all.


	2. Plotting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's regroup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys skjjkdsjkd thank you for your patience w this update, i had a lot of work but as im sure youre aware work is mighty scarce rn LOL anyways wow this is longer than id thought itd be

Okay, he needed a plan. Ol’ Willie always has a plan! This shit’ll be easy-peasy. He’s gotta convince his spotsy he didn’t just absolutely creep the hell out of him. That his advances were wanted. He hadn’t been seeing things. Dave cringed, god he royally fucked this up didn’t he? The love of his life, served to him on a golden PLATTER, and he HAD to shakily blurt that out of all things. 

Because he had never been gay before. He fucked broads, he’s felt casual friendly touches. But this? It was so new, so intense. He’d never been in love before. He’s never been romantically so fucked for a guy before. To be totally honest, he’s never even been in a relationship before. He closest he’d come to intimacy was crudely paying the woman as she left. That’s why when these... feelings came... His first reaction was denial. Yes, okay, he watches old sport when he’s doing his shitty job. Watches him dance for the kids. Watches him sweat over a hot oven. Fantasized about him getting too hot and taking his shirt off. Watches him throw firecrackers in the urinals. The vent shafts were strangely built to hold a man his size. How was that his fault?

If he was bein’ honest, these new feelings were kinda too much for him to confront. He didn’t even possess the vernacular that’d describe what the fuck his sexuality even was. All he knew was that to soothe himself to sleep he’d imagine waking up to that orange face...

He never in a million years imagined anyone would feel anything for him. He was a fucking freak, honest, look at him. The purple guy. Child murderer, although, he smiled ruefully. He supposed Jack wasn’t above that anymore.

Right. He needed a plan. It’d be too awful to leave things like this. First things first. He might as well nut up and make that big romantic gesture he’d always fantasized. For that he’d need hot food (could steal some kid’s pizza...), flowers (theres gotta be like shitty flower tattoos at the prize corner right?) some place romantic (the Safe Room... where they’d first met.... Rats and old blood be damned.) and finally, mood lighting. Maybe he could steal a child’s light up sketchers. He’d have to improv that bit, but damn is he a spring chicken on his feet. 

But first. To arrange the meeting. He confidently burst from the Safe Room, looking left and right for his beloved. This shit was serious, no fucking around now. This shit would make or break his very livelihood. He doesn’t think anything he’s ever done had ever been this important. Yes, he had fucked up. Yes, he was irredeemable. But fuck it all did he want to be better.

There. His beautiful, wonderful, kind sportsy. He hadn’t noticed him, seeming to be scouting out for Phoney. Dave swiftly approached, stealthy, not wanting to alert him. He stiffly grabbed Jack’s shoulder, spinning him around roughly. He gave him a stern, scary look.

“You. Me. Safe Room. Meet me after work. Don’t keep me waiting, old sport.” he whispered in his ear before scampering off like the coward he is, not even looking at Jack’s reaction as he scurried away. A rush filled him. He hadn’t even watched his reaction; he was on a mission.

First things first. He let out a big sigh. The prize corner. The only place in this hellhole to find temporary tattoos. Maybe, if he’s careful, he won’t have to make contact with that virgin freak Matt. He glanced around swiftly, not seeing a soul, although in a spooky place like this that can’t ever be trusted. William made a dash for the prizes, digging through, figuring what he’d be looking for would be in the cheap pile. 

Perhaps the patron saint of gays was smiling down on him, or maybe even the god of sex, because no virgins spoke to him. He dashed away, loot in hand. He was truly a lucky man.

Now, for food. The way to a man’s heart is his stomach, after all. If he had a responsible adult in his life, maybe they would have cheekily taught him that. Instead he’s a forty year old man with severe psychological trauma and a penchant for tinkering. Oh and he kills kids. But that’s neither here nor there. This part will be easy. Often, a customer will complain about pizza, so they toss it. This was why Dave was greedily hunting in the business’s dumpster. Is that the janitor? Huh. He hoped this wasn’t the meat dumpster. There! A whole, miraculously intact pizza. Only a spare needle and hair. We call that protein in Freddy Fazbender’s.

He shoved the pizza in his back pocket. Two things down, a couple more to go. Dave knew where to find his mood lighting. He staked out the ball pit. A kid had taken their shoes off, dancing their toes along the surface, clearly smart enough not to go in. They’d already lost eight kids to the ball pit that month. You can’t be sure, but Dave suspects Freddy himself is at the bottom, hungry. He kept watching. The kid’s older brother had light up sketchers. It was a simple matter, ladies and gays. A game of patience. Oh, and a firm shove, the smaller kid plunging with a cut off scream into the inky depths. Their brother exclaimed, before taking his shoes off to follow them. A quick yoink, and boom baby, Davey was getting laid tonight. Rest in peace those two small American children. Their sacrifice to the homosexual agenda will be immortilized in the history books. Amen.

With all the items on his checklist gathered, he made his goblin way over to the safe room. He slipped inside and immediately got to work. He put the flower tattoos inside the light up sketchers, a makeshift vase if you will. He placed the now crumpled pizza on a beat up upside down cardboard box. He checked the time. It was 4:30. An hour and a half to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading yall,,,,


	3. Gay Panic (tm)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave gets those Bad Thoughts.

Turns out when you severely fucked up the morning previous, and you’re waiting a whole hour and a half, a lot of nervous, terrified energy can whip you into a frenzy. Minute fifteen of whistling alone in a bloody, cold room and Dave began to get those thoughts. Y’know those thoughts; oh what if Jack doesn’t like it? Of course nobody actually likes Freddy’s pizza, why would he? You’re both trying to slit the bear’s throat, you aren’t exactly fond of the food. What if the gesture isn’t good enough? You fucking hobo, Henry growls, you absolute cheapskate. You wouldn’t treat a fine lady like this and though Jack is no fine lady, he deserves the finest. Henry laughs and it rattles around in William’s head. You couldn’t even get a man to love you, you absolute freak. You pathetic, broken weasel of a man. 

When did he start crying? Huh. He hastily wiped his cheek clean. He took a seat, getting bored of pacing endlessly. The thoughts didn’t stop. What if Jack had certain expectations of him? Experience?? He shuddered. Oh god. What if he expected him to have a dick?! Shit, he hadn’t even thought of that. 

Just calm down Davey. You’ve done truly epic shit. You’ve gotten at least four Freddy’s shut down. You’ve killed enough kids to possess every animatronic suit in America. You’ve invented deadly traps, robots and more sex robots than you’d like to admit. Hell, you’re pretty sure Jack likes you. In the very least, your ambitions lie together. Why can’t you guys?

Dave began idly tinkering with whatever scrap he had on hand. Just something to keep him from bolting. His mind was racing and his anxiety peaking. He just needed something to do with his hands. He was piecing together a mini plushtrap, finding a chipped screw driver in the trash pile. He plucked some of the loose teeth from the pizza and stuck them in the endo-jaw. Okay. He can do this.

He hated when he got like this. He was full blown panicking at this rate. Watching himself dig through the trash to find more parts to work with. The bad thoughts kept echoing and Henry just wouldn’t shut the fuck up. Henry stood beside him, also watching his body breathe so heavy and cut itself on some rusty metal. He bellowed a cruel laugh.

“You can’t even be gay correctly.” he heard Henry say. He forced his eyes shut. Shut up shut up shut up. Shut the fuck up. Why was it so fucking LOUD right now?!

He checked the time again. Five-thirty. He blinked. Had so much time really passed? Dave looked around the room, surprised suddenly to find the room had six bug-eyed Plushtraps staring up at him. When had he done that? Huh. Must’ve had a tinkering episode. Welp, he figured, it was a good way to time skip, waiting for his orange prince to meet with him.

What if he was late? Oh God, was it lame that he sat here for hours waiting on this? Was it pathetic that he really had nothing else to do? Why didn’t he, I don’t know, kill some kids or fuck with Phoney? Why did he just sit here, gut hanging out, thumbs firmly up his ass? He was already fucking this up. Well. We already knew that. That’s how we got in this mess in the first place, right?

The sound of the heavy Safe Room door creaking open made Dave turn wild-eyed at the sudden movement. There he stood. The most handsome man to ever be defiled by this wicked place. A beautiful, undead soul, seeming absolutely bewildered in the doorway.

“Dave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY YA'LL!!! I've been blown away by the reception to this fic.... You guys are so freaking nice qwq thank you so so much for your patience. Love ya'll <3


	4. It's Us Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jeez get a fuckin room u guys

Your name is Jack Kennedy. You have been in an interesting waltz with a purple child murderer. You took him up on his offer, at first, out of morbid curiosity. You are mutedly surprised to find you like the chemistry between you two. He’s kinda... weirdly cute even. If you could call it that. He flirts without even thinking about it, saying your dick is huge and calling you babe. You found what was clearly a Foxy Stripper Pole(c) and took it for a spin. He got very flustered, then screamed he wasn’t gay. Of course, you backed off, because you’re a decent person, child murder aside.

Fast forward to right this moment. The very moment that had you questioning your stream of consciousness in the first place.You had been asked to meet the confusing purple man in the Safe Room at closing time. Admittedly, you’re a little early, about ten or fifteen minutes. You open the door and are greeted with what seems like a small army of Plushtraps staring up, stupid, creepy, human looking eyes glazed up at the ceiling. A box has been kicked over, what looks like old pizza all spilled on the floor. Children’s light up sketchers toppled, flower tattoos littering the already trashed room. 

“Dave?” your voice seems too loud. The man in question has spun to face you; eyes wildly focusing. He appears to be forcing teeth into what looks like human gums, attached and bloody, clinging to scrap endoskeleton. He has been crying, that much is apparent. He’s covered in filth and gore and you can hear his audibly harsh breath. So nothing new really.

“Oooh, hello there, old sport,” he seemed to be forcing a smooth tone. He got to his feet, hands perhaps a little stiff at his sides. “You’re late.” You close the door behind you, a little appalled at the statement.

“What? It’s,” you check your wrist. “5:51, I’m nine minutes early- Nevermind that, what are you doing??”

Dave pauses. He looks awful. You’ve never seen him look so... Sad. Sad and exhausted. His security uniform is stained on the chest and sleeves. His skin even seems a touch more grey. He still hasn’t met your eyes. 

“Ain’t it obvious, old sport?” He puffed up his chest, bravado back in place. “I’m always thinking ten, thirty steps ahead. These little freak ass Plushtraps are very important to The Aubergine Man’s Handy Dandy Three Step Plan!! Uhhh, totally!! See, Jackie Boy, they uhh....” Dave moved a plastic arm up and down. “They’re definitely functional. That, I can guarantee you.”

You feel your face fall. Is this really what he called you in for? You kinda thought, what with how hot it was that he grabbed you like that in front of everyone, maybe he’d wanna talk about what had happened earlier. You take a breath. Should you bring it up? You already feel so bad for making him uncomfortable. 

“Dave before we uh... Move onto phase two... I was thinking we could talk about what happened this morning.” You begin. You can’t look at him. “It feels weird to leave it like that.” 

It’s quiet for a second. After a moment, you finally look at him. It’s like he’s trying to decide what to say, mouth opening and closing, hesitation obvious. It hits you that you’re the one again applying pressure. You don’t even know how he feels. What if he lashes out at you for this? This slight? Dealing with Dave is like hitching your horse to an eight foot rabid Tasmanian Devil and hoping it all works out. Morbid curiosity is what got you here, and is that even fair to a person? Thinking they’re so blatantly deranged that it’s blinding? You feel yourself questioning how the fuck you ended up like this. In love with a purple bean pole. Who kills children. At a horror show Chuck E. Cheese.

He breaks the silence. “J-Jack, I, uh, planned more than uh, this. Old sport, I got you food, flowers, mood lighting, an-and I held it here, the place we met.” He rambled, words coming out faster than Jack could process. “I ain’t never done anythin’ like this for nobody, so consider ya’self lucky, you were always the man for me. Me an’ you, we’re gunna destroy this place. We will be Gods, old sport. I’m gunna make you a fuckin’ star. We’re going to rule this goddamn earth, with you as my King. I worship you, old sport. Okay? I fucking worship you and I want to show you every part of me. This isn’t how I wanted to do this but I’m a real moron with this romantic shit. Ya gunna haveta forgive me for that, old sport. You precious, powerful man, you’ve made into a actual queer, and I need you to know that. I need you to know I really love you. I have become gay. You have infected me with your homosexuality. You fuck. I love you so much, you fucking fuck. Oh God, I really screwed the pooch, didn’t I, pal? Ya think-” He’s rambling again. You’re smiling ear to ear when you grab him by the shoulders and hug him. You back off just as fast, looking at his face for his reaction. He’s staring at your hands, looking stunned.

“I like you too, dipshit. Is that what all this garbage is? A date?” you’re smiling so hard it’s hurting your cheeks. You notice, however, that Dave is shaking, trembling in your grasp. You drop your hands and give him a bit of space. “Hey, hey. You okay?” You study his face. He’s crying now, staring at the floor.

“I’m just so happy... Listen, old sp-” He looks back up to meet your gaze. “Jack. I ain’t ever done this before. And- and there’s things I need to tell you about. I’m a bad guy. I’m just. I’m no good.” he seemed to cringe.

“Maybe I like bad boys.~” you grin and wink at him. He stares a hole at you.  
“Please never say that again. Jesus, Jack.” he grins despite his words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so much for everyone's patience and sweet comments. sorry this took me so long. i got rlly burnt out w writing and i put too much pressure on myself, but i hope u guys like this. maybe ill write more??? i dont wanna make promises tho. thank u guys again :")

**Author's Note:**

> u guys ever black out and just


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